“What happened? Are you okay?” Maggie asked.
“It’s so awful,” said Lisa. “He’s out back.”
She took Maggie around the house to the backyard and shone her flashlight app down the steps. Maggie gasped.
“Holy shit, you didn’t push him, did you?” she asked.
“No!” said Lisa. “I came home and couldn’t find him and then I heard his phone ringing…” Her voice trailed off as she got choked up.
Maggie hugged her again. Lisa pointed to the garden hose.
“I left it across the stairs,” she said. “It’s my fault. I will have to go to jail.”
“Oh, honey, no,” said Maggie. “This isn’t your fault. It was an accident. I thought he got rid of the shoe thing.”
Lisa sighed, trying to get the strength to tell the story.
“I thought so too,” she said. “When I was waiting for you his phone lit up and it was his…shoe girlfriend or whoever.”
“What?” asked Maggie.
“I smashed his phone when I saw it, and I’m sure that’s more evidence—the police will think I killed him!”
“Okay, sweetie, listen to me,” said Maggie. “You didn’t kill him, you came home and found him dead from a tragic accident. If the police make you go down to the station, you’re not even going to talk to them without Eva there, if that’s even necessary.”
“I’m supposed to be sad but I’m not and they’ll know,” whispered Lisa as she trembled.
“I’ll call the police. And we will say we came home in the same car and found him together,” said Maggie.
“But it’s a lie!” said Lisa. “We can’t lie to the police!”
“If I’m a witness that he was already dead,” said Maggie, “you won’t even have to worry about them wondering how he got that way.”
Then Maggie pointed to the garden hose and looked at Lisa, who understood, picked it up, and placed it back across the top of the stairs where it had been when Jim fell.
“You only went down the steps to see if he was still alive,” said Maggie, “and I will make the 911 call. The end.”
Lisa looked down the darkened stairs, seeing only shadows—her husband’s, and the glint of the bright red shoe from the cellar stair where it had landed, upright.
“The end,” she echoed.
Maggie sat at the kitchen counter with her (estranged? first? She never knew how to refer to him) husband Dave, drinking coffee. He’d just brought in the morning newspaper. Things had been peaceful in the months they’d been back together; their lives had slipped into a comfortable routine and Maggie was pleased at how much she’d missed the simplicities of family life. Her grown daughters would come and go for visits, but she appreciated the sense of quiet in her life now—something she hadn’t experienced often in raising kids.
“How do you think Lisa is going to be today?” asked Dave.
“I think she will probably still be in shock even though it’s been a few days,” said Maggie. “She made the decision yesterday to have his body cremated and said she can’t deal with planning a memorial service right now. And I do not blame her. His own family hasn’t even asked about a memorial service—it’s weird.”
“I feel so bad for her, she seems like a bit of a loner,” said Dave.
“She’s a quiet one,” said Maggie. “But she will get through this. I know it really helped her when she lost the baby to get away for the weekend and visit Eva on the island, so Eva is setting up another girls’ weekend for us in a week or two. She really needs to get out of that house.”
“That neighborhood gives me the creeps,” said Dave.
“Oh hell yeah,” said Maggie. “Fucking Peyton Place meets Twin Peaks over there for sure. She’ll have that place for sale in no time. You know, I was thinking about letting her stay at my place for a while.”
Maggie said this offhandedly but Dave looked up from the paper at her. Maggie had spent almost every night with him in their family home in recent months, keeping her apartment over the shop just to use the kitchen or take a break while she worked in town. He had sensed her resistance to letting the apartment go, but hadn’t wanted to pressure her into moving out of her comfort zone.
“That would be really thoughtful of you,” said Dave. “A change of scenery would be great for her. And she can walk to the bakery from there.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” said Maggie. “It might be good for her to be able to walk around town and get away from those bitches in the land of vinyl for a while.”
“Anything I can do to help, let me know,” said Dave.
“Thanks, hon,” said Maggie. They chatted for a bit about the municipal election Dave was gearing up for—campaign signs, meet-and-greets, fundraisers. She put her coffee mug in the sink, hugged Dave, and grabbed her purse.
“Another busy day at the shop awaits,” he said, and smiled at her.
She smiled back. “Have a great day. Love ya.”
“Love you too, Maggie,” said Dave, and she was on her way. Checking his phone, he saw his meeting at the architecture firm wasn’t for another forty-five minutes. He poured another cup of coffee and removed the newspaper from the plastic bag.
Just as he heard Maggie’s car pull away, Dave flipped open the paper to see the above-the-fold front page story:
SUSPECTED SEX CLUB UNDER INVESTIGATION
Stony Mill residents react to illegal swingers’ club in neighborhood.
Acting on an anonymous tip, police arrived at the home of a Stony Mill home this weekend (property owner names withheld due to charges still pending) to investigate a noise complaint related to an alleged sex club operation. The homeowners alleged that people were gathered for a neighborhood party, but on entering the premises, police spotted a tip jar on a bar of what appeared to be a small nightclub inside the home. Two uniformed female agents were initially let in to the basement-level party rooms willingly, but when the residents suspected they were investigators, they were quickly asked to leave.
The investigation continues as evidence is gathered and potential charges are pending, including violating the county home business ordinance, selling alcohol without a license, and lewd acts, including a bondage scene in one of several ‘themed rooms’ reportedly witnessed by an investigator.
A popular local anonymous Web site called ‘The Keytown Mouse’ has been reporting the existence of a ‘Scarlet Letter Society,’ a group of unfaithful women who meet in Keytown to discuss extramarital affairs, in addition to reports about the swingers’ club that hosts parties regularly in the Stony Mill subdivision.
One neighbor in Stony Mill, speaking on the condition of anonymity, said, “There’s nothing illegal going on here. The woman who owns that house is a personal trainer and if she wants to have a private party in her home, there is no law to stop her.”
“It’s absolutely ludicrous,” said Jeannie Appleton, president of the Keytown Elementary School PTA and a resident of Stony Mill. “This is a family environment and it is absurd to think sex parties would be going in homes where children are present! Our homeowners association will obviously be contacting an attorney to get to the bottom of this.” Chaz Appleton, Jeannie Appleton’s husband and president of the Stony Mill Homeowners Association, did not return several requests for comment.
Dave shook his head, picking up his phone to text Maggie that she might want to pick up a copy of the morning paper when she got downtown.
When Maggie arrived to open her shop, Wes was sitting in the doorway drinking a cup of coffee and holding the morning newspaper.
“It’s about time you got here, you lazy bitch,” he joked. “The sign on the door says nine o’clock a.m., not nine-oh-whenever-I-feel-like-it.”
“That’s a fuckin’ fantastic idea for a sign,” said Maggie.
“So you’ve seen it?” Wes asked, holding up the newspaper as Maggie unlocked the shop and walked inside.
“Nope, left the house before I had a chance,” said Maggie. “What
possible earth-shattering news could have hit Keytown that would make you appear bright and early at my doorstep? One of the farmers holding a gay pride party?”
“Over my dead gay body,” said Wes, rolling his eyes. “Though I know a bunch of guys who would be totally down for a farm-themed hoedown thing. We could wear those ratty jean suspender thingies but with no shirts, and assless chaps, of course, with vintage cowboy hats…”
“Oh Christ, well, how did this conversation turn into your big gay farm fantasy?” Maggie laughed as she flipped on lights and adjusted the heat. The fall was getting chillier as it rolled toward winter.
“You distracted me,” said Wes. “Okay, ready for this?”
He handed her the newspaper.
She scanned the headline.
“Oh no fuckin’ way,” said Maggie. “The shit hits the proverbial fan in the kingdom of Desperate Housewives? And what do you know? The Scarlet Letter Society makes it to print. I feel oddly proud.”
“You should be, founding mother,” said Wes, who couldn’t keep the grin off his face. The latest gossip scandal was enough to make the local theater director practically giddy. Who didn’t love real life drama?
“Ah, yes, and of course the reigning queen of the cookie-cutter monarchy has chimed in,” said Maggie. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the anonymous tip in the first place.”
“Do you think they’ll shut it down?” said Wes.
“What, the fake gym swingers’ club? I don’t know,” said Maggie. “What do I know about police shit, but it seems like they entered without a warrant under false pretenses—does any of that so-called evidence even count?”
“Hmmm, good thinking,” said Wes. “Maybe not. All I know is we need a gay version of this party. And I want to be in charge of the room themes.”
“Okay, farmer boy,” said Maggie. “In the meantime it will be interesting to see how the Sex in the Suburbs drama plays out. That Jeannie Appleton sure knows how to be a buzzkill.”
“Yeah, she is not invited to my farm fest,” said Wes. “On a more somber note, have you talked to Lisa? I know she must be a wreck, poor dear.”
“She has a quiet inner strength,” said Maggie, “that I know will get her through this. Eva and I are trying to be there for her as much as she will let us. I’m going to ask her if she wants to stay in my apartment upstairs for a while.”
“Oh, that is such a fantastic idea,” said Wes. “Get her out of that creepshow, move her into town where all the cool people are. We will get her over to see a play.”
“I’m sure she’d welcome the distraction,” said Maggie. “We could use a girls’ night at the theater.”
“We have wine!” said Wes.
“And chocolate,” added Maggie. “What else could a girl ask for?”
Brandon and Kellie sat in front of the computer screen on the laptop in the kitchen, reading the morning news. Kellie had gotten a text message from Rachel alerting her to the day’s newspaper.
“It’s such colossal bullshit,” said Brandon. “If one of those idiotic Watchers hadn’t opened the door and let the fake real cops in without us even knowing, this never would have happened.”
“The door is locked and it’s only supposed to be opened by you or I for a reason or by someone with the combination,” said Kellie. “We need to suspend their membership for putting the club at risk.”
“It doesn’t really look like we’re going to be able to have a club for very long,” said Brandon. “To be honest, I don’t know how long we’re even going to have this house.”
“After all the blood and sweat and money we have put into this damn place,” said Kellie. “It just really pisses me off that it could all just go away.”
“And Jeannie Appleton…” Brandon began.
“Don’t even speak her fucking name,” said Kellie. “I want to kill her. I really do. At the very least I want to punch her in the babymaker but I would happily go to jail for killing her.”
“Okay,” said Brandon, “well, let’s focus on keeping us out of jail for any reason.”
“I just can’t fucking do any of this anymore,” said Kellie. “We aren’t bad people, we are just making money on something people have done for millions of years and will continue doing whether this place is open or not.”
“The perception of it is so unfair,” said Brandon. “That we are doing something wrong. Thank God the fucking cops didn’t know anything about the drugs.”
“Yeah, we were lucky on that. A sex club and drugs. And here we were trying to plan a wedding in all this chaos?” said Kellie. “That was stupid. I don’t know what we were even thinking.”
Brandon looked hurt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it was kind of crappy timing when I asked you.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Kellie. “I wanted to start a family, too. I knew I couldn’t afford to stay here when my asshole ex finally left,” said Kellie. “I thought the club would keep me afloat but it’s just too much overhead.”
“The build-out was definitely more expensive than we planned,” said Brandon, “but that was just because we wanted to make it nice. No one would come if it looked crappy. Especially your fancy new Phantom friend. Who the fuck was that, anyway?”
“Why are you asking about him now all of a sudden? I don’t fucking know who it was, he was in costume,” said Kellie.
“You went into a private room with him, assumingly fucked him, and you don’t know who he is?”
“I assumed it was Chaz when he came in, but it definitely wasn’t Chaz,” said Kellie.
“Well, you would know,” said Brandon.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” asked Kellie. “We own a fucking sex club and you’re going to give me shit about having sex in it? You’re actually going to try to make me feel like a whore??” Her face turned beet red as her voice shook with anger.
“I wasn’t trying to pick a fight with you, I just wondered who it was,” said Brandon.
“Well, you fucking picked one,” said Kellie. “What, you’re jealous now? Who the fuck was Catwoman? I didn’t ask who the fuck Catwoman was, because it was a goddamn masquerade party where no one was supposed to know who anyone was! Like the cops that came to the door, for example. No one knew who the fuck they were.”
“I can’t believe the Watchers let them in,” said Brandon. “Seriously, those were obviously real cop uniforms and not masquerade costumes!”
“I know,” said Kellie, trying to calm down. “What are we going to do about the cops?”
“We have a club member we know is an attorney,” said Brandon, “and we’re going to give him a call. He will want to help us. He loves this place.”
“Good idea,” said Kellie. “You work on that and I will work on ruining Jeannie’s life.”
Brandon smiled. “That will cheer you up.” He headed toward the door in his brown delivery service uniform.
“Yes, it will,” said Kellie. “See ya later.”
As Brandon closed the door and headed to the distribution center, Kellie hung her head and tears came to her eyes. How is my life falling apart all at once?
She knew she couldn’t marry Brandon. She loved the security he provided, they were a good team when it came to the business, and she hated being alone. But she didn’t love him. He was great in bed but she wouldn’t make the mistake again of marrying for lust instead of love. Marrying Michael too soon had been a terrible idea, and she wasn’t going to make any more of those. She took off her small engagement ring and placed it on the kitchen counter. She wouldn’t wear it again.
She had felt like a fool believing she was falling in love with Chaz Appleton and believing they could somehow create a future together. Anyone who would marry a super-bitch like Jeannie had issues she didn’t feel like taking on—not to mention he already had two kids! She knew he wouldn’t want another baby. And this was why Brandon was still around. He wasn’t a bad guy.
She picked up her phone. She saw two new messa
ges and responded to the first one, from Rachel.
Rachel: Holy shit. The paper. Are you ok? Freaking out?
Kellie: Totally freaking out, but somehow numb at the same time.
Rachel: Well congrats, you made it to middle age.
Kellie: Not comforting. Also? Too young.
Rachel: You’ll be fine. If you can manage to freak out and feel numb at the same time, you win the suburbs. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.
Kellie: Keep the cops off my tail?
Rachel: haha, good luck with that.
Kellie was annoyed. She’d thought she and Rachel were friends, but lately Rachel seemed too distracted by her college professor girlfriend to even give her the time of day. It had been obvious which couple they were at the masquerade party, and of course all the guests had been completely entranced by the two hot lesbians in matching pink outfits. According to Brandon, no one had suspected one of them was a mother who happened to be married to a man.
Her thoughts drifted to the Phantom. She hadn’t seen him since that night, or maybe she had, since she imagined he didn’t go around stopping at the pharmacy or coffee shop dressed in a Phantom mask and cape. She wanted to see him again, and in fact had become a bit obsessed with the idea. She’d gone over the Rocks Club membership list a dozen times and determined it was no one she knew. She had no idea how he’d known about the party that night—he must know someone in the club to have had access to the password-protected invite. That didn’t exactly narrow it down.
She looked down at her phone again and responded to the other text, from Chaz.
Chaz: Hey babe, are you ok?
Kellie: Well your cocksucker of a wife didn’t exactly brighten my day.
Chaz: That’s about the last thing I’d call her.
Kellie: Oh duh yeah bad choice of words. Anyway, HATE HER.
Chaz: I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to back away from the homeowners association thing but she keeps insisting we need to stay a part of it.
The Scarlet Letter Scandal Page 12
